


A Good and Gracious Lady

by Ramzes



Series: The Silver Dragon and the Faded Sun [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Multi, Parody, elia is a saint, elia lives to make rhaegar happy, elia sooooo good
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-06-06 19:03:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15201386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ramzes/pseuds/Ramzes
Summary: Elia Martell's life with Rhaegar is heavily affected by her realization of her deficits, so she does all that she can to make up.





	1. The Wedding

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, infinitestalia, for the tumblr post that inspired me for this twin story of The Wedding Day!

“I’m sorry.”

Doran’s voice was soft and full of apology that Elia knew was real. She did not care for his belated regrets but she could hardly say so. She simply did not have it in her to be truly angry at another human being, Doran less of all. After all, she knew that he had never meant to hurt her and that took away all the sting and much of the pain.

“I know,” she sighed as around her, ladies and handmaidents were bustling about, trying to make it all perfect before she left for her wedding.

Her critical eye could not fail to notice that despite her exquisite facial lines, she could lay no claim to true beauty – illness overlaid her entire complexion like a shroud, making even herself darkly aware why Aerys had chosen her for his son’s bride. It was exactly because of her illness. In arranging the match, he had deprived Rhaegar of a worthy spouse, let alone a worthy alliance with a more powerful House than the Martells. Of course, he hoped that Elia would fail to produce an heir at all – but even if she did, chances were that the child would be sickly and wan, unnoticeable like her. Elia bitterly wondered how Rhaegar could not hate her for this. But then, why would he? He did not seem like a man who would hate her for being the way she was. He was too good and Elia could not believe her happiness to be going out to be wed to him. At least, that was what she kept telling herself. The truth was, she did not want to be wed to Rhaegar or any other man. She loved children and would not mind having one – but not when she knew childbirth had greater chances of  killing her than other women. She’d rather keep living quietly and happily in Sunspear, having her private life and the blessing of moontea… no, she should not think about this now. She should not – but fear grasped her over and over when she thought of the night ahead of her. Rhaegar had to be a real fool to believe that she, of all women, had an accident while riding… She did not even _know_ how to ride. Sometimes, she could barely walk…

It was all her mother’s fault, much more than Aerys’. Aerys hated his son, so naturally, he’d want to burden him with a wife like Elia. But her own mother? Elia knew she loved her – but she loved power and revenge so much more.  And now, Elia was left to foot the bill, along with Rhaegar who deserved someone better, someone stronger. Let alone the realm which deserved an heir and Elia wasn’t even sure that she could provide one, let alone a healthy one. Had the years of taking moontea every day… done something to her? She had never heard of it affecting a woman’s fertility but she was the frailest woman she knew. What if…?

You should have stopped her, she wanted to say but didn’t. What use would there be? She _understood_ her mother. She understood everyone. And Arianne Martell had not meant to hurt her. This was what mattered.

“Let’s go,” she said, sighing, and accepted the arm her brother proffered.

When they reached Baelor’s sept, the heavy gown was weighing her down so powerfully that Elia thought she would faint. The few steps from the gilded carriage to the huge gates, now thrown wide open, were almost too much for her and the icy cold, the kind that she had never seen in Dorne, did the rest. She focused all she had in her to stay on her feet because she would not be carried inside for her own wedding. But even so, the truth could not be seen. All around, she saw dismayed and even horrified faces. That was their future queen? _It isn’t my fault_ , Elia thought, trying not to weep.

Rhaegar was waiting for her between the statues of the Father and Mother and Elia could have laid her life down for him – because he was the only one who did not let his disappointment show.


	2. Willpower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone in my comment box, you make writing this much more fulfilling!

Days went by. Winter became even more relentless, the storms making the bells in the septs of King’s Landing clanging without a human hand touching them as fierce as the lions in the menagerie at the Water Gardens when the mood took them. The snow covering the world in a soft white blanket looked appealing at first but it was surprising how soon it became just a given. Another bit of magic lost.

The celebrations of the royal wedding were now over and an increasing number of eyes shot the new Princess’ speculating looks, as if they expected to see a belly as big as right before a birth – when it was too early to even know if she had gotten with child! She had likely not.

Elia Martell was leading a double life that made her weep silent tears of anguish every night, after Rhaegar retreated from her bedchamber to his own. In the beginning, she had thought it was out of courtesy and desire not to limit her comfort. She still did. But now, she had to wonder if he did not wish to be away from her. If he had not gotten to know her secret. Somehow. Because, in this double life, it cost her a tremendous effort to suppress the behavior her Dornish upbringing and her own nature had bred in her – the desire to flirt and charm to the best of her abilities… when her constitution allowed her. This court would deem this shallow in a princess and if anyone got to know about the things that filled her thoughts day and night… She lived in the court in daylight and at night, she lived with her husband but it was not real, not her. The only real life the real her had was in her private thoughts that could get her executed if someone knew... She was not sure just how much faith Rhaegar had put in her pretension at their wedding night but maintaining the illusion was proving harder than expected – she had to act far less experienced than she was and she was not sure at all that he bought it.

He, though… He had no experience at all and while Elia might  have enjoyed teaching him under other circumstances, his naivety and the fact that she had to pretend naivety as well left her unhappy and unsatisfied, in both body and soul. When he left, she wept and prayed to the Mother to rid her of this lack of satisfaction that crept in the entire fabric of her life… but the Mother did not offer encouragement or help. Arthur Dayne did.

It made Elia blush with shame for weeks after the fact. It happened so swiftly… Rhaegar was expected in her chambers in about an hour and she had retired early with a headache… but when she saw Arthur at her door and the empty hallway, she lost her mind, the hungry aching of her very body prompting her to take his hand. Arthur, ever the weak-willed one when she was concerned, obeyed immediately and actually had the gall to look _disgruntled_ when she only drew his head to that place – well, not right then but when it became clear that his tongue and lips would not be followed by anything more… substantial.

She had not broken her vows, technically, but she was repulsed with her lack of will. And perhaps Rhaegar had noticed something because he became even more distant, so reserved that she dared not even look at Arthur, let alone address him for weeks – which, as she would realize later, only made her husband all the more suspicious.

“We’re leaving for Dragonstone,” he announced three weeks into their marriage. His beautiful purple eyes were staring not at her but above her head.

Is he trying to take me away from the temptations of court and men, Elia wondered. He likely was but he did not say a word of it, although he had the right. Gratitude welled up in her and she vowed to be the best lady wife possible, overcoming her despicable lack of morals… and the limitations of her poor health.

It was easier said than done, though. For many weeks, she woke up gasping, dreaming of hotness, streaks of pleasure as bright as lightnings as Arthur’s lips moved in there… and then, she would look at the fair hair which was a shade too fair, the handsome face, way too handsome, and remember that this was not Arthur who knew her body better than anyone, and she would go back to sleep trying to think of thrones and the glory of Rhaegar’s reign… and succeeding, sometimes. Most often not. How could she expect of Rhaegar not to feel her betrayal?

Soon, another issue took possession of her mind, temporarily pushing her dissatisfaction aside. What if she could not get with child? She was so sick, always. And over the years, she had forgotten to take the moon tea in a number of cases. She had never had a reason to bother.

Two months after settling on Dragonstone, she wept with joy and relief of her own willpower that now let her knew for sure that when her first child arrived, in seven moons, it would be a dragon and not a falling star.


	3. A Future of Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who commented, you are a great inspiration!

People said that only a Targaryen could find beauty in Dragonstone. Her own mother had come here a few times when she had served Princess Rhaella – and when the dragon island was mentioned, she would always purse her lips and change the topic. In one of her rare unguarded moments, she had said that the place sucked life and joy out of people, although it usually reinvigorated the royal family.

She was right about this, of course. The stone dragons were terribly depressing and the winds and storms that made the day half as short and the light perpetually grey took their toll from Elia’s people. Even Arthur… but Elia would not think about him. Not now.

Rhaegar seemed to have found a new purpose, buried deep in his library. His gait was more energetic now, his eyes more focused. He did not look happy but he looked stronger in body and will and that fit her mother’s words.

Elia herself felt surprisingly comfortable in this dark, dreary place. It was a suitable punishment for the weakness that she had shown and she felt soothed knowing that she was paying for her sin. She had enjoyed the pleasure of her greedy flesh and one had to pay for what they received – her dislike of Dragonstone was the payment for this pleasure. All was the way it should be and Elia threw herself with all the energy she could muster to win over the lords who lived in the vicinity and those who visited from afar. Rhaegar was still not entirely open with her but he did not go to any pains to conceal the fact that he was building a faction of his own. Against whom? There was just one possible answer and Elia did her best to help him as she grew rounder and rounder.

She prayed for a son with Rhaegar’s looks and determination and not a daughter with her weakness of flesh and spirit. A worthy heir would be the peak of all that Rhaegar was trying to achieve with her help and over time, she started believing that the power of her desire would make it true… until her travail started and went on and on, became harder, impossible to bear and the fear on the maesters’ faces could no longer be concealed.

“Is it such a great pain normal?” she panted, looking at the chief midwife because somehow, she felt that the maesters, men, could never understand.

The woman was the only one who dared tell her the truth – the maesters had been all assuring her that she was doing great. “No,” the grey-haired old wife replied. “You’re in more pain than usual because your pushing is fruitless. The babe cannot go down the narrow channel and this is where this unnaturally strong pain is coming from.”

 _My family cheated Rhaegar_ , Elia thought before a new wave of pain roared all over her, rendering her senseless, leaving her just an awkward body to thrash around and a voice that she could no longer recognize as her own to roar. _They must have known,_ she thought again as the pain receded and before the next one came, she already knew that this was her punishment for being a fallen woman, a bad wife, unworthy to be Queen. But her child needed to be born; Rhaegar needed an heir; she needed someone to love her the way she already knew Rhaegar never would. How could he? For all the good impressions his potential allies left Dragonstone with, the news of the future Queen’s state of health could not be neglected. How could they respect a woman who looked as pale as if she were about to drop death any moment now? No matter how charming she was.

But her son would not know about her failures for years; for her babe, she would be the world. She pushed again, with renewed strength, and just when there was no strength left at all, she heard a tiny cry… and saw terrified faces.

“What?” she tried to cry out but only managed a whisper. “What’s wrong with him?”

It turned out that the problem was… there was no _him_.

 _I cannot go through this once again_ , Elia thought as she held her newborn daughter. _I can’t._ But she knew she had to. A daughter was no heir. She could not fail Rhaegar in this. She would get with child as soon as she was able to rise from this bed… and she hoped that it would not kill her. And if this second child was another girl, she would try again. And again. Until she got the son that she craved. And if his birth was anything like this babe’s, well, there was another way for Rhaegar to get a second son. He could always take a mistress. Elia smiled at this thought and some of her concerns went away.

“Rhaenys,” Rhaegar said when he sat down next to her, touching his daughter’s face, and Elia could not help it: she kissed his hand, immensely grateful that he did not mind the child’s Dornish looks as she had feared that he would. “She will be named after the foundress of our dynasty.”

Elia nodded, happiness and pride just pouring out of her and turning the dim daylight into a glorious shower of sunrays.


	4. Unworthy

Sometimes, Elia felt that she did not deserve to be this much benevolence by the Seven. She had thought that with this cursed health of hers, she’d never get wed and would have become a septa, if not for her woeful inability to say no to the desires of her body – and now she was wed to the most handsome man in the realm. She would be Queen one day! All those who had scorned her and rejected her as a worthy bride would get to witness her triumph. After not being sure if she’d be even able to get with child ever again, she was now carrying Rhaegar’s heir in her womb – and also basking in his gratitude because he believed that this child would be the child of a prophecy only he knew the details of. Elia did not particularly care about the details because she did not believe in it at all. But if Rhaegar ever decided that he wanted to tell her, she, of course, would hear him out with grace and gratitude, and all appearances of true belief, as was her duty. Really, even the constant mild discomfort, broken by brief spells of acute pain, could not diminish her elation, for she had already received so much and one had to pay for what they received… Traveling all the way to the riverlands to attend the greatest tourney the realm had seen in decades was such a minor price…

The wheelhouse suddenly lurched to a stop before clambering back into motion – much faster than Elia had ever experienced. From the outside, Elia could hear Ser Gerold’s curt voice giving orders but she could only make out some separate words. Ashara started to open the window to inquire what was going on but Elia shook her head. “I am sure that the men know better,” she said, because what could her refined lady brain know of danger and things like steel clashing in steel – that was what she was hearing now? She left it in the hands of the men accompanying her, like a lady would, only getting a small part of it – someone had attacked them.

Soon enough, she got to know the rest of it as well, starting with the moment the carriage door was thrown wide open and a grinning face poked in. “Your jewels, Princess,” he said and Mina Tyrell screamed when she spotted the blood dripping from his right hand. Not his own blood, unfortunately! Elia knew better than play the hero, so she nodded at Ashara to take the casket out and huffed, insulted, when the brigand had the audacity to flip the lid open to make sure that there were indeed jewels inside – did he think that she was lying?

His grin broadened and he hit the lid back in place. Behind him, Elia could see tree trunks and bushes in the green bloom of spring. It reminded her of the valley parts of Dorne – how weird! “So?” she asked politely, hiding her horror behind the mask of the ever perfect, well-bred highborn woman. ‘Why are you still here?”

He actually held out a hand and touched her cheek. Elia recoiled. “Because, little princess, now that I saw you, I know that I want you as well and not just your jewelry.”

Fear drew a piercing cry from her throat. A moment before, she had been wondering if she should swoon like most of her companions – well, all of her companions, like Ashara. This was the right thing to do but he was too quick for her: before she could even look at the seats and calculate her fall against a soft spot, he was already squeezing her to draw her close and what followed was the only kiss in her life that she found sickening. The smell of his breath, the stench of her pitiable fear… Had he killed everyone outside? She was about to fall unconscious without any effort when he released her, leered, and left. As much as he had enjoyed the kiss, he did not forget to take the casket as well! Elia wiped her mouth in her hand and started wailing.

“How is Rhaegar ever going to touch me again?” she asked desperately, feeling that even the child in her womb was now tarnished, tainted, almost as unworthy of their father’s love and devotion as her. Rhaegar had just been robbed of something that was his by right – how could he hold the same respect and affection for her now? If only she had taken a few lessons in wielding dagger – it could have changed everything!

The huge walls of Harrenhal came in view as Elia was still torn between despair and the fantasy that she could become a knight. Somehow.


	5. A Crown of Roses

The shock left her stunned, her hand instinctively going down to her belly, as if she wanted to protect the babe inside from the insult his father had dealt her for all the world to see. Later, she was grateful because this prevented her from reacting, let her preserve her image of a gracious lady who never showed unbefitting jealousy and possessiveness, although she had been reeling with them.

Still, even as she sat, unable to move and barely able to keep her tears from falling, she could not fail to notice how _right_ Rhaegar and the Stark girl looked together. She had never seen this shining in Rhaegar’s eyes and the girl looked radiant, like she had not been ill a day in her life. Elia sighed and some of her anger faded. While she had not expected the public insult, she could not say she was surprised that Rhaegar had finally met someone. Someone who was… different. As different from Elia as snow from desert. She focused on her breathing and tried to look as if everything was just fine, although she could feel that every eye was fixed on her. Every eye that was not fixed on the Queen of Love and Beauty, at least.

She managed to go through the motions. Somehow. She pretended not to hear the whispers, the wonderings what she had done to push Rhaegar to another woman who could not compare to her in beauty – a woman who looked like a boy, in fact! Had she been cruel to him? Had she, perhaps, in a true Dornish fashion, given her favour to someone else to wear and he had come to know? She ignored more and more things as her anger rose. Rhaegar should have known better than putting her in this position… but he had followed his heart, obviously. Somehow, this made it better, gradually. No one could order their heart what to feel and what not to feel.

She had disappointed him in so many ways already. Everyone at the tourney had seen how frail the future Queen was. This babe is going to finish what the older one didn’t quite manage, they whispered behind their goblets. Everyone knew that they could not rely on having an active Queen in her face – her time was entirely occupied with her health. She had even seen some ladies look at her and then Rhaegar in a way that could not be mistaken: they were wondering what hold did she have over him, if he would not even join the jousting, instead spending so much time with her.

 _He did it to show that he wasn’t under my thumb, the way King Daeron was under Queen Mariah’s,_ Elia thought and decided to cling to this explanation, although she knew there was more than this. She hated the thought that he had finally decided to show his disappointment with her and his lack of trust that she would give him an heir, a healthy son, but she could not really fault him for feeling this way. She was only disappointed with his lack of restraint.

When he finally came to her, it turned out to be something entirely else altogether.

“She was the Knight of the Laughing Tree,” Rhaegar explained. “She deserved some recognition and I knew you would agree, my lady.”

She recognized the eagerness in his expression. The infatuation. She had seen it many a times before and it felt strange to see it in her own husband’s eyes and know it was meant for another woman. Being the pure soul that he was, Rhaegar probably did not know. He had no idea what a blow he had dealt her, his wife. He had not thought about her at all…

“I do agree,” she said in a hollow voice and to her surprise, he seemed to believe her – his smile left no room for doubt. But then, why not? He always believed the best of everyone. He even believed that he was merely honouring Lady Lyanna for her courage… Elia could only wait for realization to come to him and wonder what other blows he would deal her when he came to know…

What choice did she have? Try to scratch his eyes out in a manner totally unbefitting a royal lady?

She was good and gracious. Well-bred. She would survive.


	6. A Queen's Duty

“They’re wrong, I know they’re wrong! I’ll give you a son, I swear I will!”

Rhaegar looked uncomfortable. “Elia, you just did.”

She looked down at the white bundle in her arms and felt a little guilty. In her horror that she’d be unable to do her duty by Rhaegar and give him another son, an assurance that he would have an heir no matter what, she had all but forgotten the living, breathing son she had. She lifted him a little to kiss his tiny head and he gave a wail of real suffering. Whispering apology, Elia returned him to the breast and realized that she had just failed him, the way she had his father. Her son did not need her guilty kisses but her milk. If she could not give him a brother, she could at least nourish him, no matter how painful it was. _I love this pain_ , she told herself and tried to believe it.

“I know one son isn’t enough,” she said slowly, dejectedly. ‘I’ve let you down.”

“You did no such thing,” he assured her but Elia heard the lie in his voice and loved him for it, for his willingness to deny the obvious just to make her feel better. “And I don’t actually need another son. Just the third head…”

“I can’t give you this either…” Elia sighed and wished that she was dead, that childbirth had just taken her immediately after Aegon’s first cry. She could not fathom how the Seven had let the people who hated her gloat, why they had helped them…

How could she make up? Deep inside, Elia knew that even if Rhaegar made love to her every night, many times a night, her womb would stay forever barren and useless. She had failed in the main duty of every queen. What would Rhaegar do if Aegon died? Babies were so fragile. If such a thing happened, he’d be left without heir and saddled with a wife unable to provide him one. Her tears welled up and Rhaegar looked away, clearly uncomfortable.

“Will you make a song for him?” Elia asked, desperately trying to cover up, hide her thoughts from him.

“He has a song,” Rhaegar replied. “He is the Prince Who Was Promised and his is the song of ice and fire.”

This soothed Elia a little – but just a little. He wasn’t blaming her as he should be doing – at least not yet. She smoothed her babe’s sparse hair and whispered to him that all would be fine. His father would love them. He would take a mistress if he needed to – after all, a bastard could be legitimized later. One way or another, Aegon would have a brother who would be his most fierce champion…

“There must be one more,” Rhaegar said softly and the look he gave Elia made her weep. A mistress was the last thing he had on his mind. Despite her failings, he had expected, _wanted_ to father this one more on her.

“There will be,” she promised him, just like she had promised Aegon, and reminded herself that she might be too weak to rise and certainly too feeble to accept Rhaegar in her bed, but she was still a princess of House Martell, a princess of Dorne. She would face her fate with grace and dignity – and she would make sure Rhaegar found some happiness in the process. No one deserved it more than him. “We’ll talk later,” she added and closed her eyes. Rhaegar quickly waved Ashara in before Aegon could slid out of her tired arms and break his skull on the floor. The last thought to cross Elia’s mind before she went to sleep was that she was the worst mother ever. What mother placed her babes in such danger? _Thank the Seven for Rhaegar_ , she thought and sweet oblivion finally took her.

Two days later, they finally brought Rhaenys to see her and Elia felt a fresh wave of guilt as her daughter jumped up and down on her bed, all over her. Rhaenys’ love was so pure and yet all Elia could think about right now was, _You should have been a boy. It isn’t fair. You should have been a boy._ Her failure to do her duty was affecting her love for her children – even this! And it could not be tolerated.

“I need to talk to my lord husband,” she said and as she waited for Rhaegar, she thought about the best way to present her suggestion. It would sound mad – after all, it would lead to such humiliation for her that she could not stop to think of it because she would scream. But this was the duty of queen; this was the road to Rhaegar’s personal happiness.

She would pull through.


	7. Bearing it with Grace

Elia had thought she could bear it with grace – but she had hoped that the news would take some time to arrive. She wanted to spend the first days of the new year with the children in her bedchamber, not thinking of anything, just focusing on her good fortune of being alive. Surviving. During this day and night that still haunted her dreams, she had been sure that she would not see her children grow up. She had almost become reconciled with telling Rhaegar to take the Stark girl to wife after she died – after all, Lady Lyanna was the mother Elia would have preferred for her children over anyone else. But the Seven had decided that she lived and she wanted to spend some time dreaming about Rhaenys and Aegon’s future and luxuriate in the gods’ mercy before facing the burden heavier than a mountain – and still lighter than the one Rhaegar had to bear.

Instead, the news came immediately and as much as she tried not to let her feelings show, she could say that everyone, from the maesters to the cleaning women, felt pity for her. Only her good manners and the fact that it was beneath a lady to show that such low things like her lord husband’s passing fancies prevented her from dismissing everyone from service – well, this and the fact that if she did, she’d likely have to do her own laundry. Everyone in this dreary castle seemed determined to pity her!

She was a little surprised by the hurt she felt when she heard that Arthur had been one of the men accompanying Rhaegar. She might know her duty and she certainly didn’t want to deflect him from his but… he was a Dayne and she was a Martell. As recently as the beginning of her marriage, he had sworn that he still loved her, yet he helped Rhaegar despite knowing what a blow it would be to her, personally? Oh, what a wretched creature she was, always thinking about her own self and not wholeheartedly about what Rhaegar was trying to achieve! Elia blushed with shame and prayed to the Seven to cleanse her from this sin.

The news about Brandon Stark came almost in the immediate aftermath of those about his sister and all Elia could think about was, “Fool, fool, what a fool!” She did not know what was going to happen now but she felt that it would be something bad. She did not particularly care if it would be bad for the Stark boy but she did care that it would reflect badly on Rhaegar. Who on earth could think the Prince of Dragonstone an abductor of maidens? Brandon Stark, especially, should have known better about his little sister’s inclinations – Elia did not doubt that it was completely in the girl’s nature to play the whore each time she took a fancy to a man!

Shame gripped her again when she remembered that no matter Lyanna Stark’s morals, she herself had been far from a maiden in her own wedding night. The Seven had not managed to cleanse her fully, it seemed. Lyanna Stark was a good and noble girl who could give Rhaegar the devotion he deserved but could never receive from his wanton wife. She tried to think about it as she watched the dragon ships arrive.

“They’re going to be here,” her uncle finally said, breaking the silence as they both watched the advance of the vessels in the falling dusk.

“I know.”

“We should have left as soon as you were able to rise,” he said when it became obvious that she would not add another comment. “We still have time.”

Elia shook her head, love for him filling her heart so forcefully that she thought it would break. “No,” she said. “I knew what I was doing. If we  leave for Sunspear, Aerys will decide that Rhaegar has really betrayed him and Dorne has decided to abet him in his treason. The war on our country is going to be inevitable and I won’t let this happen. And I need to win time for Rhaegar. He has to…”

“I know what he has to do,” Lewyn Martell interrupted and his black eyes flashed dangerously. “And I don’t think he needed to abandon, humiliate, and endanger you in this way to do it. I say we leave now.”

“No,” Elia said firmly, desperately wondering if it was their Dornish blood that made them both s prone to treachery and lack of any stability in their feelings and honour. _No, Arthur has overcome it_ , she remembered. _It must be our Martell blood. It can’t be anything else._ “No. As long as I keep playing on Aerys’ tune, going there to be his hostage, along with the children, Rhaegar will have the time he needs. I will survive. I can bear it with grace and maturity like a queen should.”

“At least tell me where he is,” her uncle begged.

“So you can write to him and appraise him of the situation?” Elia guessed and his guilty blush told her that this was indeed the occasion. “No. I know what I’m doing. I assume the entire responsibility for my children’s wellbeing and my own.”


	8. Abject Failure

Elia had always taken pride in being a good and gracious lady – because the Seven could bear witness that she could lay no claim on any other virtues! Good and kind, smart and witty – these had been her consolation ever since her frail health had stopped her from taking part in so many games that the other children would not ever think of skipping. Even when she grew up… She might not have had the morals of the daughter the Princess of Dorne desired but the thing was, no one _knew_ about this. She _looked_ the moral part and she _was_ the lady part. Even Rhaegar, as generous as he was to her, was grateful for her being a genuinely good-hearted lady. _This  is going to make things easier, my lady,_ he would say, the goodness of his heart preventing him from pointing out that the desperate struggle between her wifely duties and her inborn carnal inclinations would only make things harder. He _liked_ having a gracious wife.

Elia had learned to fake good health, accepted morals, politeness to people she’d happily strangle if given the chance! Only the good part of her personality, the natural desire to make good and understand people, do her duty to whatever cost there was to herself had never been pretended.

Until now.

It was Aerys’ fault, of course. His court, now a place of constant burnings and wild rages, was a haunt of danger that only became worse when, in one of his fits of suspicion, the King got all of Elia’s retainers killed off or imprisoned – if their birth was high enough. Alone with her children, subjected to the whims of the man who enjoyed making her watch, wondering when she and her children would not be the spectators but the main actors in this tragedy washed away all of Elia’s goodness, leaving only the base instinct of survival, no matter whom she had to sacrifice.

“Where is he?” her uncle asked the night he came to say goodbye. Aerys was sending him away to gather troops, sending him away from her – and not even hiding it. “Where is he keeping her?”

“I don’t know,” Elia finally admitted and Lewyn looked at her, horrified.

“This is a lie, isn’t it?” he asked, his tone very close to begging. “Please tell me that you’re only trying to protect him, that you know where this woman is and you have a means to negotiate with the rebels for your own safety.”

Elia shook her head, her eyes welling up, and he let out an ugly oath at her husband.

“This bastard! He left you entirely defenseless so he can fuck his whore undisturbed…”

Elia did not say a thing. Not so long ago, she had admired Rhaegar’s cleverness in not telling her anything about his location – this would stop her from ever revealing under torture what she knew. Now, the wretched creature that she was, she wanted this knowledge, this bit of assurance – and as disgusted as she was with her own cowardliness in the face of the world falling to death of ice and fire, she would do anything to get this information from Rhaegar when he returned – for return he would. _He must_.

Unfortunately, or perhaps very fortunately, her lord husband realized what she was up to the very moment she asked the question. The disappointment in his eyes broke her heart because she knew she had just torn the last thread that kept him bonded to her. With her selfishness. With her reluctance to bear the consequences for a choice that she had pushed on him. Oh, Rhaegar was too clever for her! Or perhaps it was just that she did not make a good liar. He had felt the tremble in her voice, the insincerity in her eyes, the derision that she felt for her own weakness…

“I’m not telling you this, Elia,” Rhaegar said. His voice was as calm and respectful as ever. “But I’d like to know why do you want to know. You were the one who offered that I take Lyanna – are you planning to give her over to my father?”

Elia shook her head. No matter how cowardly, she was not this vile. “No. I just…” she started and paused, realizing that she could not find the words.

“Nothing good can come out of you knowing where she is,” Rhaegar said. His eyes were as kind as ever – perhaps he knew that she was not this cruel and self-serving, normally. “Would you want to expose her and my child with her to danger?”

 _Why not,_ Elia shouted in her head. _What should I do? What’s wrong with using them against her angry betrothed and family? What should I do in order to preserve your child with her? Let them send my own son to the Wall? Let my daughter be made a silent sister? Spend my life as a hostage? Nothing bad would come to her if you win – but what  if you do not?_ Oh, how she hated herself, how she loathed her inability to act like a true queen or at least take responsibility for the deficiencies of her body and the consequences of her choices!

Rhaegar read her mind and his face turned cold and distant. She had all but spelled out her determination to make his love bear the consequences of Elia’s own actions, use her as if Lyanna was no more than a whore – all for her own selfish survival! He rose and bowed formally before taking his leave. At the door, he turned and said, “I’ll take care to ensure your safety and the children’s safety, Elia. Be sure of this.”

He was so good. The thought that she was the one people called good and gracious made her laugh and she kept laughing hysterically as his footfalls echoed down the hall and then died away.


End file.
